


where did i go wrong? (i lost a friend)

by thegrimeslegacy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Suicide, after 'start to finish' [6x08], carl tries to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimeslegacy/pseuds/thegrimeslegacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron is distraught from his family's untimely death and Carl is the only one who notices.</p>
<p>[[based on 'how to save a life' by the fray]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	where did i go wrong? (i lost a friend)

> **_'i would've stayed up with you all night, had i known'_ **
> 
>  

Carl had never been so scared. He was still trembling an hour after it happened, sitting in the lounge room with a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders and half his face still speckled with blood. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

 

People kept trying to talk to him, but it was no use. He was paralyzed. His father had been kneeling in front of him for the past half hour, desperately trying to get a reaction out of him. Rick kept saying his name. 'Carl' echoing in his ear every minute along with the occasional shake of the shoulder. Carl wasn't listening though, just staring straight through his father, the scene playing in his head on repeat and the gunshot ringing in his ears.

 

"It's no use, Rick." Michonne said, leaning against the doorway. "He can't hear you." 

 

Rick sighed, knowing she was right. They had to let Carl go through the motions, though that didn't make it any easier seeing his son in such a state. He stood up and walked to Michonne. 

 

"Has anything been done about the body?" He asked, keeping his voice down. Michonne glanced at Carl sadly before answering.

 

"Abraham and Spencer are taking care of it." She said softly, "Tobin is digging the grave now." 

 

Rick nodded in response, looking completely distraught. They should've had a better eye on the kid. He should've had a better eye on the kid. But he hadn't, Carl was the only one who noticed. 

 

Rick looked over to his son in pity, watching the boy's shoulders shake subtly as he stared at nothing in particular. He couldn't bare to wonder what was going through Carl's head while he sat there in his own world. His own twisted world.

 

The gunshot rang throughout Alexandria precisely at 3:46am. However, Carl Grimes was there fifteen minutes before with the shooter. 

 

Ron Anderson had been sure that no one was awake when he escaped the house at 3:27am. Then again, that wasn't the most pressing matter he had on his mind. No, all he was thinking about was getting to the armory. Ron didn't notice the brunette following him as he crept down the street. 

 

His brain was scattered. He didn't know what to feel, what to think. His father had been murdered only a month ago, which should make him feel angry. But his father abused him and his mother, which means he should be glad that his dead. His father's killer was controlling the town, which should make him aggravated. But he had saved his life and taught him about guns, which should make him feel grateful. Ron had wanted to kill Carl, which should make him feel guilty. But, Carl was such a know-it-all and an asshole, so he should still want to kill him, right? His mother and brother were eaten alive, which should make him feel utterly horrible. But, he had been spared and saved by Rick and his group yet again, which should make him feel grateful. 

 

It was a hurricane in his head. 

 

He was sweating, despite the chilling wind. He had always suffered from anxious night sweats, but this was insane. He couldn't breathe properly and felt flustered. Ron was surprised he made it to the armory without screaming for help. He wouldn't have known what he needed help for, though.  What was wrong with him?

 

The armory was unlocked, just like it always had been. Olivia was off-duty, sleeping at her house across the street. No one else was there. 

 

Ron walked in, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair and dampened it with sweat. He let out a choked sob as he keeled over in a hunched position. He was surrounded by his thoughts. His father's hostile words pounded in his head. His brother's screams and his mother's pleads as her hand was severed off by the man who cause the mess. 

 

That was  **it** .

That was **_enough_ ** . 

He had to end it. 

He had to kill Rick Grimes. 

 

Ron's breaths were quick and heavy as he began to search through the collection of guns clumsily. He rummaged through the box, finding the pistol that he had been taught to use by the man he was going to kill. 

 

Ron's free hand padded around nearby for bullets, the metal touching his skin coldly as he closed his fingers around them. He hastily began inserting them into the chamber. His father's voice encouraged him in his mind as his mother's told him desperately to stop. Ron flinched as his parents voices crescendoed, his breathing becoming ragged.  He wanted-  _ needed _ -it to stop. They just wouldn't stop. 

 

"What the hell are you doing?" 

 

The voices in his head vaporised as his voice echoed. His irritating, 'mature' voice that Ron recognised in an instant. Ron squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a broken sigh and turning. 

 

What was he doing? Did he want to do what he was planning? Did he even know if the bullets were right for the gun? What did he really want to do?

 

"Ron." Carl said urgently, "What are you doing? It's 3am. Why are you here?" 

 

He didn't know what to do. He raised his gun, aiming it at the blue-eyed boy. Carl reacted immediately, taking a step back.

 

"Really? We're going there again?" He asked, annoyance filling his tone. "Put it down, Ron." 

 

"No. You can't make me." Ron responded anxiously. What was he doing? His father said something about him being a childish coward and he couldn't distinguish whether it was in his head or not. He was going mental.

 

Carl could see this too. He had a crazed look in his bloodshot eyes. However, Carl didn't feel threatened by the gun. Ron didn't have any idea on what he was doing. He probably still had the safety on. 

 

"You're not going to shoot me, Ron." He said calmly. "Just put it down and we can talk." Ron glared at him. He knew that voice. The 'pity' voice. The voice that people used when they found out what his father was doing to him, when his father had died and when his whole family was killed.

 

Ron  _ hated _ the pity voice. 

 

"Shut up." He said, though he wasn't talking to Carl. His father kept shouting at him, telling him to do it, that he should go on a murder spree. Rick could do it, why couldn't he? 

 

"Shut up!" He said, louder this time. He put his hands up to his ears, the gun still clenched in his fist. His father's voice only grew louder. 

 

"Ron?" Carl said cautiously, now confused. He took a step towards the crazed boy, unsure what to do. Should he take the gun off him? Force his hands away from his ears? 

 

"Help me." Ron pleaded to them all. Carl, his father, his mother. His father's taunting turned to shouting in his head and he let out a scream, his eyes shut.

 

"Hey, hey!" Carl panicked, grabbing Ron's shoulders, "It's alright. I'll help you. Just breathe."

 

Ron opened his eyes, his wide brown irises staring at Carl's face. He analysed the features, his freckles, his small nose, the slight arch of his eyebrows and his blue eyes. Those fucking blue eyes. 

 

His father told him to join him and Ron made up his mind. He slowly pulled his hands away from his ears, his breathing slowing down. He knew how he felt. 

 

He's grateful that those eyes would be the last thing he sees.

 

"Thank you." He said softly to Carl, who didn't have time to express his confusion before Ron leaned in. The kiss was short, passionate. The spark was there. 

 

And then Ron pulled back, closing his eyes and pressing the barrel against his temple. 

 

"Ron-!" Carl's confused word dissolved at the deafening shot. Ron's body muscles went slack and his arm fell as his body leaned sideways. His blood splashed over Carl's face and his fingers slackened and let the gun clatter to the ground. Carl realized he was still holding his shoulders and stumbled back, letting go. 

 

Ron's body fell onto the floor with a thud, limp and unmoving. Carl let out a wretched scream as he stared down at him, his brains splattered all over the place. 

 

He screamed again, as loud as he could. The safety was off, Ron knew what he was doing and he didn't stop him. He fell back and landed on the floor, fiery tears running down his face and blending with the blood.

 

He kept screaming, he couldn't stop. He kept screaming until his father ran in and dragged him out of the nightmare he had just lived. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this mirrors Glenn and Nicholas, i know. i hope you enjoyed this :)
> 
> thank you for reading x


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